


possessive

by orphan_account



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: ? Sort of?, Angst, Celty is only mentioned. sorry celty stans, Fluff, Gay tension, Im unoriginal, Izaya is hurt fic, Izaya’s an idiot, M/M, Oblivious Izaya, Unrequited Love, as usual, hurt comfort, izaya helps Shizuo, izaya’s a dumb gay, or so Izaya thinks, shinra is kinda a jerk, shizuo helps izaya, shizuo’s also a dumb gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21728410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Why are you helping me?” It was weird talking calmly to Shizuo. It was weird to hear Shizuo say anything to him in a voice quieter than a shout.Shizuo looked back down. “It’s not anyone else’s place to do this to you.”
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo & Kishitani Shinra, Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya, Kishitani Shinra & Orihara Izaya
Comments: 8
Kudos: 250





	1. Chapter 1

“Ah. Careful.”

Shizuo dabbed a cotton ball against a scratch on Izaya’s cheek. “Shut up.”

Izaya frowned irritatedly, staring at the wall ahead of him. For once, he didn’t talk back. He was lucky Shizuo of all people had even agreed to help him. 

“What happened?” Shizuo asked, his voice barely audible. 

“Let’s just say I didn’t complete a job as well as some people would have liked me to,” Izaya said, “and I paid the price.”

He had gone to Shinra first, explaining everything that had happened, but Shinra didn’t seem to believe him. Even if he did, he had plans with Celty and that was more important to him than helping this beaten-up info broker that he sort of used to be friends with and now maybe still was but he wasn’t really sure.

“I’ll call up Shizuo,” he had joked. “See if he can help.”

Except it wasn’t a joke and Shinra really called him, saying nothing except “apparently Izaya is hurt and needs help.” Shizuo had hung up the phone quickly, saying he’d be at Izaya’s place soon and leaving them both stunned. 

And there they were, seated on the couch, drowning in the tension. Shizuo pulled away from Izaya’s cheek and put a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back against the couch. Izaya hadn’t realized that Shizuo could be gentle. Shizuo moved closer and pulled up the bottom of Izaya’s shirt, tending to a cut just above his waist. 

Izaya studied his face. Shizuo looked up and they locked eyes. “Why are you helping me?” It was weird talking calmly to Shizuo. It was weird to hear Shizuo say anything to him in a voice quieter than a shout. 

Shizuo looked back down. “It’s not anyone else’s place to do this to you.” His fingers brushed against bare skin on Izaya’s stomach. Izaya took a slow breath.. “It’s my job to..” He trailed off. Izaya knew Shizuo didn’t like acknowledging that he was someone who hurt people. “I’m supposed to do it.”

Izaya realized that Shizuo had created this whole complex in his mind. Shizuo hated hurting people, but he seemed to hate it a little bit less when it was Izaya being hurt. Izaya wasn’t innocent, Izaya wasn’t a damsel in distress. Izaya would dodge his attacks and counter, leaving Shizuo with a bloody gash across the chest. Izaya wasn’t violent, he was defensive. Shizuo was the only person Izaya tried to hurt and in return, Izaya was only  _ allowed _ to be hurt by Shizuo. 

Izaya let himself chuckle. “What are you saying?”

Their eyes met again, and Shizuo’s gaze was so intense that Izaya’s breath caught in his throat. “I’m saying you’re mine, Izaya.”

And there was something about that phrase and the way he said it that made Izaya feel so foreign. Shizuo had claimed for years that all he wanted was to wipe Izaya clean off the face of the earth but here he was, carefully tending to Izaya’s injuries. Possessive.  _ Jealous.  _

Izaya looked away. He felt Shizuo’s hands start to move again. “Okay,” he said finally, and he hated how breathless and shaky his voice sounded. “I’ll be sure to let them know. ‘Sorry, I’m property of Shizuo Heiwajima. Hands off.’”

Izaya let himself glance at Shizuo and he could have sworn he saw a smile. “Shut up.”


	2. Chapter 2

Everything went back to normal. 

Izaya tried to forget that day ever happened. It wasn’t a proud moment. He didn’t like looking weak, especially to Shizuo. 

It was hard to forget, though. It was hard to forget Shizuo’s fingers on his skin, Shizuo’s soft voice, Shizuo claiming Izaya as his own. 

If he couldn’t forget it happened, he could pretend it never did. 

Everything went back to normal.

Or so he thought. 

He was minding his own business, as he usually did when a vending machine came flying towards him out of nowhere. Except there was Shizuo but no vending machine. Izaya was staring at him and he was staring at Izaya but he looked _calm._ He wasn’t even ripping a stop sign out of the ground. 

They stared at each other for a while, stopping what they were doing. Izaya could see a subtle crowd around them - people knew who they were and people knew what they did when they were around each other. 

Izaya flicked open his knife. 

“Izaya..” Shizuo’s voice was _quiet,_ hesitant. He didn’t want to fight, Izaya realized. 

Now, in any other situation, Izaya would’ve taken that opportunity to run off. Izaya only fought _back_ \- he only attacked when he had been attacked. 

But to Izaya, he _was_ attacked. Shizuo came into his home and turned things upside down on him. Shizuo made him confused. And that wasn’t okay. _Izaya_ was the one in control, always. He always had a back door. 

But where was the back door for wanting your enemy to touch you?

Izaya lunged forward and with a clean flick of his wrist, a huge cut appeared on Shizuo’s chest. He grimaced and covered it with his hand, staining his palm with blood, but he didn’t fight back and he didn’t run off. 

Shizuo didn’t want to hurt him anymore. 

What did that mean?

Izaya closed his knife, turned on his heel, and ran. 

•••

Shizuo stumbled into his apartment. His phone buzzed. 

_Come over._

It buzzed again. 

_I need to fix what I did._

•••

Izaya never felt as scared as he did then - waiting for a response, waiting for a knock on his door. But it was more likely he wouldn’t show, more likely he’d get a rejection, if he got a response at all. 

He didn’t know how long he waited. He counted the seconds but he didn’t quite process them as he did so. 

There was a knock and Izaya scrambled to the door. Shizuo was leaning against the door frame. His white shirt was red. Izaya looked away and let him inside. 

“You don’t need to do this,” Shizuo mumbled. Izaya ignored him, leading him to the couch and running off to get supplies. When he came back, Shizuo was unbuttoning his shirt. He took a breath and sat down next to him. “Are you not going to say anything?”

Izaya avoided eye contact but he could feel Shizuo watching him. He started cleaning away the blood silently.

“What’s wrong with you?” Shizuo grumbled, and Izaya considered stabbing him again. 

“Shut up,” he hissed, still not meeting his gaze. “I’m helping you.”

“Why?”

“I did this.”

“When have you ever helped me in the past? Why is this different?”

They went quiet. Izaya busied himself with pouring alcohol on the rag. 

“You feel bad,” Shizuo realized, and Izaya finally looked up. They stared at each other for too long. “Why?” 

And he didn’t know why. He didn’t know what had changed.

But there was a _want_ inside of him, and it had started showing itself after Shizuo had said those words. _I’m saying you’re mine, Izaya._ He _wanted_ Shizuo, but he didn’t want him with a gash in his chest. 

It was a childish, impulsive thing to do, but Izaya was scared. 

And so he wanted to fix it somehow. 

But did he really think he would ever have Shizuo as his own?

“It just..wasn’t who I am,” Izaya said finally and broke eye contact, and it wasn’t a lie but it didn’t even begin to scratch the truth. 

Shizuo accepted that answer and they fell silent as Izaya tended to his chest. But Izaya’s thoughts were loud: a longing to touch his chest without causing pain or fixing pain that he had caused..

and the realization that he would never have that. 


End file.
